


take it high

by fabulouspizza



Category: Kiznaiver
Genre: Consensual Violence, M/M, this is not proper bondage kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 09:19:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6652036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabulouspizza/pseuds/fabulouspizza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katsuhira and Hisomu try something new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take it high

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say--I watched episode 3 and I wanted to write something.

“I don’t know when Tenga will be home,” Katsuhira mumbles.

“Well then.” Hisomu shakes hair off his shoulder. “Maybe you’d better hurry up.”

They’re in Katsuhira’s bedroom. The sun has reached that point in the afternoon where it’s shining brightly through the window, and it’s glinting off the metal chair that Hisomu’s sitting in. With his hands behind his back. Zip-tied.

It hadn’t taken too long for Hisomu to convince him of this, Katsuhira thinks. There were a lot of reasons why they shouldn’t do this. But the reasons why they should: lust on Hisomu’s part. Curiosity on Katsuhira’s. It was the curiosity that surprises Katsuhira the most.

“Ka~tsu~hi~ra!” Hisomu sings, and shakes his hands behind his back. “Tighter please!”

Katsuhira pulls tight on the zip ties, enough that his wrist buzzes and Hisomu gasps.

Katsuhira steps back in front of Hisomu, the back of his thighs just brushing the bed. He levels a stare at Hisomu. The man looks slightly manic already, fingers flexing and knees bumping up and down.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks. “You don’t want me to touch you, right?”

“I want to feel it from you,” Hisomu croons.

Katsuhira flexes his wrists. He’s not sure where it hurts the most. Slowly, he brings his fingertips to the top of each arm. His nails dig in and he drags them; past his elbow, to the inside of his wrist. Pink lines bloom on both his arms and Hisomu hums.

“Not bad. Try your mouth.”

Katsuhira bites down on the edge of his tongue, and Hisomu giggles. He bites his lip, and Hisomu moans. He yanks his hair, pinches his thigh, pulls his ear. Hisomu is smiling at him, face flushed.

“Okay, come on. Hurt me.”

Having been bullied all his life, Katsuhira is not a stranger to how people hurt people. He’s never done it to anyone else, but he’s familiar with the motions.

He stomps on Hisomu’s foot.

Hisomu yowls, and Katsuhira backhands him in the face. Once. Again on the other side. His knuckles are just tingling, barely, and his Kiznaiver mark is glowing with both their numbers. Hisomu’s head is lolled forward, but Katsuhira can see the grin on it. He can see something else too—Hisomu’s pants have grown tight and there’s a very obvious spreading wet spot.

Katsuhira leans forward, slides both hands up Hisomu’s shirt. Katsuhira finds both nipples and twists—Hisomu screams and nearly stands up, taking the chair with him. Katsuhira slides in—puts a leg on either side of Hisomu and sits on his lap. This close he can see the flush spreading down his shirt, the saliva at the corner of his mouth. Katsuhira has never felt how that looks.

Hisomu’s hips are bucking into his now. He’s panting, but his head is still down and Katsuhira can’t see his face. Katsuhira slips his hand onto Hisomu’s head and fists his hair, yanking his head up. His pupils are blown wide, leaving a tiny sliver of gold iris. Katsuhira sees himself reflected in them. Suddenly he’s very aware of Hisomu’s crotch pressing against his.

“This was a good idea,” Hisomu whispers. “You’re something else, Katsuhira-kun.”

Katsuhira jerks Hisomu’s head to the side, teeth finding skin. He bites the juncture of his neck until he tastes blood and Hisomu’s feet skitter helplessly on the floor. Katsuhira keeps biting as he feels Hisomu’s hips jerking up underneath him, suddenly very warm and wet—keening noises are pouring out of his mouth. Katsuhira can feel the vibrations against his cheek.

Katsuhira lets go, and Hisomu gasps. Then, abruptly, he starts laughing. The noise fills the room.

“I didn’t see that one coming!” he giggles. He looks thoroughly disheveled—hair sticking up on one side, spots of blood on his neck, a bruise forming next to his lip. 

Katsuhira likes it a lot.


End file.
